


sine ullo vivere desiderio

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sick Fenris, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've fallen ill," Hawke said, placing his palm on Fenris's forehead. It was something his mother had done to him, before; him, and Carver, and Bethany, when the world had been a different place. Some things did not change.</p><p>Fenris looked studiously at a spot past Hawke's shoulder. "So it would seem."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I always have to write a sickfic for every fandom. It was bound to happen here with Fenris, haha.
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age II_. Thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the broody elf falls ill.

Hawke had begun to notice that his ever-so-cheerful elf was not at the top of his game. Let it not be said that Fenris was not trying to _hide_ it from him and the rest of the party; for the most part, he was doing just fine.

But Hawke spent enough time with him to know better; he noticed the sluggish way that Fenris spun on his heel to chase adversaries, he noticed how Fenris turned to cough into his arm when he thought no one was looking, he noticed how the night-loving elf fell asleep first when they camped.

Hawke _knew_ something was wrong... something, in the form of widespread illness sweeping through the streets of Kirkwall.

Fenris had probably caught it before they'd even left the city, or was beginning to, and the nights trekking through the wilderness was doing nothing for him.

Thankfully they had now returned home, and again Hawke did not miss the way that Fenris was beginning to slink away from the group, making his excuses.

"Fenris."

Fenris glanced over his shoulder questioningly. "Yes?"

"I wanted to speak to you. My manor, if you could." It was a lie, but effective, as he knew Fenris would not say no. "I'll be back as soon as I report in."

The exhaustion in Fenris's olive eyes was nearly tangible, barely there on the surface as he inspected Hawke with intensity nonetheless. He was almost being obvious. But he nodded a moment later. "As you wish," he said, and turned to continue on his own.

It was a tiny bit unfair, but if Fenris went back to his own slipshod estate, Hawke wouldn't be able to help the elf's state of health if it was anything more serious. He was doubtful that Fenris would have anything to do with Anders, and so, the responsibility of Fenris's well-being was going to have to fall to him.

Not that Hawke was a caretaker.

He'd do his best.

He was quick to check in and then bid his party farewell for the time being before walking back to the manor.

Fenris was sat on the bench and slumped back against the wall slightly, although he straightened up the moment that Hawke strode in.

"Fenris." Hawke held out a hand, offering to help him up.

Fenris took it. "What do you need?"

"You've fallen ill," Hawke said, placing his palm on Fenris's forehead. It was something his mother had done to him, before; him, and Carver, and Bethany, when the world had been a different place. Some things did not change.

The elf's skin was not warm beneath his hand, but he had limited knowledge on how varying species dealt with illness, and maybe Fenris's skin would not be hot to touch.

Fenris looked studiously at a spot past Hawke's shoulder. "So it would seem," he said lowly.

"The same thing going around town?"

"I am not intimately familiar of the knowledge of this town's illness," Fenris replied. "There is a throbbing beneath my skull. It is... rather distracting. I lack hunger, and I just want to sleep."

Hawke passed his knuckles against Fenris's cheek. "Will you stay?"

"I will not be good company."

"I'm not asking you to stay because I want to be entertained," Hawke replied. "I'm asking you to stay so that I may ease your suffering."

Fenris looked at him as though he was searching for an ulterior motive. "How do you intend to do that?"

Hawke shrugged. "Put you to bed?"

"I am too tired for our activities."

Hawke huffed a laugh. "I said put you to bed, not _take_ you to bed. Our _activities_ will not cure your ails."

"Ah." Fenris tilted his head towards the entryway, and nodded slowly after a pause. "If you will have me, I will stay."

"I'll always have you," Hawke said, sliding his arms around Fenris's neck.

Fenris did allow himself to slump slightly into Hawke's chest; whether he intended to or not, Hawke couldn't be sure, but he was content to let the smaller elf curl into him.

They stayed like that for a moment until Fenris spoke again. "This is pleasant, but doing little to help."

"Right." Hawke pulled away. "Let's get you to bed." He nudged the elf out of the entrance and towards the stairs. "I'm not sure what I need to get you, honestly. It's been a time since I've needed to take care of someone. I should ask Anders-"

"Do not bring him into this," Fenris interrupted, stopping on the stairs.

"For advice," Hawke continued, pressing his palm against Fenris's shoulder. "I won't bring him here. I don't even need to tell him who I'm inquiring for."

Fenris started walking again. "I don't wish to owe that mage anything."

"And you won't," Hawke reassured. "Just focus on getting yourself to feel better, not worse."

"I'll feel better as long as I do not have to think of him," Fenris muttered, pulling at his armor.

"Don't, then. Think of me instead." Hawke helped to free the elf from his armor, setting it aside. Fenris's movements were growing more tiresome, and Hawke knew his tells; Fenris would be asleep within moments, and he needed to be in that bed before he drifted, even if it would not have been the first time Hawke would have slung the man over his shoulder to carry him to bed. "Is there anything I should know involving elves and illness?"

"Not that I know of." Fenris allowed Hawke to pull the blanket over him as he settled on the bed. "The little I know of human illness does not seem entirely different."

"That's something." Hawke tucked the blanket around Fenris's shoulder, and then swept his hair away from his face.

Fenris looked up at him without expression before speaking. "I must sleep now, Hawke."

Hawke smiled. "Yes. You get your rest. I'll be here, too."

Fenris said nothing else and rolled over onto his side, tugging the blankets with him. Yes, he would be asleep in mere moments.

It was after those mere moments that Hawke would ask Bodahn to keep an eye on Fenris, and stop him from leaving if he tried to, and then he would head off to Darktown himself to consult on Anders while Fenris was sleeping.

He wasn't leaving it to his uncertain methods; he wanted a doctor's opinion and Anders was the closest he had to that.

He'd be back before Fenris woke up, hopefully with medication or some relief for the elf's pain in hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I started writing this whilst I was still in gameplay, so the more chapters in, the more I fall into ease with writing them. I'm still learning their quirks; hopefully it's not too far off. Stay tuned! Updates should be regularly posted!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke goes to Anders for advice.  
> Fenris starts feeling worse.  
> Fluff and cuddles.

"There's nothing for it, I'm afraid." Anders straightened up, pushing the saucer of milk into the protected crevice between buildings. "Cold compresses and the like. Linden flower steeped in boiling water will cause the person to sweat, but could just as easily lead to further dehydration. Mint in boiling water will settle the stomach. Ginger for a headache." He set the empty milk bottle aside, looking at Hawke. "Why? Are you catching something?"

Hawke shook his head. "No! I hope not! People in Hightown are starting to exhibit symptoms."

Anders sighed. "Hell. I was hoping it wouldn't hit Hightown. It's been pretty bad, here in Darktown... we've lost two people already."

"Wait, it's something that bad?"

"Well, it's not worse than any other, but it's fast-moving, and widespread. I'm running out of herbs myself, chamomile, feverfew, elfroot, embrium... everyone's being rushed off their feet." He rubbed the back of his head, sighing. "There's nothing we can do except supplement and let the fever fight the infection, but unfortunately it seems more hard-hitting this time."

"Reassuring," Hawke muttered. "Where can I find any of these herbs you mentioned to me? I'd like to help, if I can." He would not mention Fenris by name, because he wasn't going to further the chance Anders would prod at the elf for something else. They had enough trouble without the men fighting amongst themselves. Even though he was certain Anders would figure it out eventually, whether by association or Isabela or Varric telling him about Fenris being sluggish during their mission.

"I can get you some mint and chamomile. Maybe some embrium, I have to go out for some more, the stock is getting low." Anders led the way back into the clinic. "You have ginger?"

"I'm not sure," Hawke admitted. "I'll ask Orana, when I get home. Anything else?"

"Hmm. Oh! Do you have vinegar?" Anders looked around. "Vinegar may help, too. I haven't used it much, myself... but so I've heard."

"Vinegar?" Hawke frowned. "To drink straight? That's repulsive."

Anders laughed. "No, not to drink straight. Apparently dipping compresses in vinegar and applying them to the head or feet helps to reduce fever."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Personally untested," Anders replied, "but some people have told me of it. Or taking a bath with vinegar in the water. Not pleasant to the nose, but take what you will." He pressed the herbs into Hawke's hand. "Let me know if anyone in Hightown is in need of me?"

"I will." Hawke clapped his hand on Ander's shoulder. "Thank you, Anders."

"No problem. Ah, how did your exploration go?"

"Slowly," Hawke said truthfully. "I am about to return home and to my bed, myself."

"Sleep well, then. Stay healthy."

"I'll try," he said.

 

 

"Master will be back very soon, messere. He said not to worry."

"I'm not. If he's not here, I shouldn't be, either."

"Fenris." Hawke stepped into the room. "What are you doing up?" He set the package from the clinic aside, and finally began to take off his own armor. "I thought I told you to stay in bed."

"I would not stay with you absent."

Hawke raised his eyebrows. "Did you think I wasn't coming back to my own house? Come back to bed, please?"

Fenris looked at him, looking more tired than he had not an hour ago. Eyes red, shadows beneath them, hair tousled. "Do not look at me like that."

"Like what?" Hawke wrapped his arm around Fenris's waist.

"I am tired," Fenris retorted.

Hawke laughed. "I did leave you asleep. Why did you wake up?"

"I had dreams," Fenris said. "I woke up, and you were gone."

"Sorry. I had to step out." Hawke kicked off his shoes at the end of the bed. "You were having dreams?"

"I often have dreams."

"About?"

"Varying things. The Void, Danarius, my sister, the Qunari uprising, your family." Fenris sank back into the bed, casting his eyes around the bedroom. "I am not sure that they would approve."

"You're having nightmares, then?" Hawke joked, although with only a wry humor that still wasn't humor at all. Malcolm, Bethany, Leandra, _Carver_ , being the way he was.

"You would call them nightmares, perhaps," Fenris replied. The implication that he did not was not lost on Hawke.

"Well, I don't care what they say. Mother knew, actually, before..." he trailed off. It had been years, and despite that... "And you heard Gamlen, got both a lashing from me as well as a few other choice words from some of us... hang on."

He left Fenris curled up in bed again and went to Orana. "Orana. Downstairs, there's a package of herbs. There's chamomile. Are you familiar with it?"

Orana nodded. "Yes, master. I am familiar."

"Good. Just steep some of the chamomile in boiling water."

"Very good, master. Right away." She bowed and turned away, descending the stairs.

"What was that?" Fenris asked.

"Something to help, maybe."

"Good."

Hawke pulled the blankets back and settled into bed next to Fenris. The elf immediately curled into him, like so many times that they had slept together now.

Slept, only that, even naked and touching with Fenris's forehead lodged against Hawke's shoulder. Certainly they had been intimate, as well, although Hawke was not unaware of the way that Fenris sometimes tensed up in the midst and never said a word. _Cuddling_ , as it were, had yet to do that. Cuddling, as it turned out, was very, very good. Hawke was not complaining.

"Where were you?"

"Just checking in," Hawke said. "Nothing seems to have been happening, praise the Maker. I need to sleep before another expedition," he muttered.

"Hm, I agree." Fenris ducked his head and coughed heartily into the space between Hawke's shoulder and the pillows, grabbing for the blankets.

Hawke frowned and reached for one of the elf's hands, curling his fingers with his. "Your bark's sounding worse than your bite," he teased, masking up the concern that he didn't need to feel so strongly... yet.

Fenris grumbled softly and pillowed his head back onto Hawke's shoulder. He said nothing else, and Orana came with the drink and went, and while Hawke talked Fenris into drinking it, the elf was dozing over it so much that he nearly ended up with it on his lap.

Hawke caught the cup, tilting it back up before he could spill it. "Okay, _definitely_ time to sleep." He took it away from Fenris and set it aside, settling back down into the blankets and pillows. He held his arms out. "Come on, then, my little sleepy elf."

The dirty look was belittled by the exhaustion in Fenris's eyes, and he did not argue. Hawke had said it before - and would say it again, undoubtedly - that Fenris was particularly at his cutest when he was half asleep. Fenris hated that remark and would afford him a glare each time he said it. It was slightly dampened by the fact that Fenris was sick, but... the messy hair and the drooping eyelids and the face that lost all sense of either irritation or happiness when he slept. Fenris was _peaceful_ when he slept, and he was beautiful when he was peaceful.

Not that he wasn't all the time, mind.

"Good night, Hawke," Fenris said, his voice muffled into Hawke's shirt; a well wish that Fenris said, every night, every time they spent the darkness together.

"Pleasant dreams," Hawke replied, and stroked a piece of hair behind the elf's ear.

It took no time for Fenris to drop off, which was just as well; Hawke could barely keep his eyelids open for much longer now that his head had hit the pillow.

Fenris's raspy breaths went unnoticed as Hawke snored away next to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to mention I'm writing this as though it's somewhere near the 11th century; I saw someone mentioned about it somewhere and decided to go with it as a rough time estimate. I did some research, but please ignore any inaccuracies as far as the healing/caretaking goes. I can barely write back in 18th century, let alone the 11th. x'D
> 
> Hang around! More coming soon! Thank you for the kudos and comments, they mean a lot!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caretaking ~~with purple Hawke.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards! Thanks for the support so far! Hope you're enjoying!

Hawke did not awaken until late in the afternoon, when the morning sunshine was already pouring in through the windows. His bedroom door had been closed after Orana had come to collect the dishes from the drink, but there was still sunlight that should have woken him. It had not. It had not woken Fenris, either, and Hawke did not, either, as he moved from the bed. Usually Fenris was a light sleeper, but then, illness did that to a person, Hawke supposed.

He breakfasted on oats and apples, tended to the letters he had received while he had been gone, and caught up with Bodahn and Sandal. He had only just returned to his bedroom to retrieve a book he had left on the desk. "What is..." he trailed off, filing a few pages of paperwork away to glance at one on the bottom, a drafted letter to a prominent figure in Orlais, and... " _Isabela_ ," he groaned. Now he _definitely_ had to rewrite that, he couldn't have it sent off with... _that_ drawn on-

"... Hawke?"

Hawke jerked the papers back over the draft and straightened up, turning to look at Fenris. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Fenris rubbed his eyes. "... It's late," he said, voice rough with sleep, and more scratchy than it usually was. Hawke frowned. "Why didn't you wake me?" Fenris continued, pushing the sheets away.

"You're sick, you need the sleep." He crossed the room. "Don't try to say you're leaving."

"I should." But Fenris shook his head. "I need the chamberpot."

"Ah." Hawke leaned against the bed post. "We've got oats with apples and cinnamon, your favorite, if you- Fenris?" Fenris had stopped moving, hand flying to his head and eyes squeezing shut. "The headache?"

"The world is spinning."

Hawke stepped forward, leaning to take the elf's face in his hands. Now he noticed the abnormal warmth on Fenris's skin, against his cheeks and forehead. He hoped that was just because he'd been asleep, been pressed into the blankets, but rarely, Hawke had found, was anything the best case scenario with them.

"You're feeling worse," he said out loud, saying it as a statement instead of a question. If he was right, Fenris would grumble at him; if he was wrong, Fenris would be quick to tell him otherwise.

As it stood, Hawke got no verbal answer because the only thing Fenris got out in response was a sneeze. Hawke leaned away with a small grin, mockingly wiping his hand against his face. "Thanks for that."

Fenris gazed at him with a look that was half asleep, and half uncomprehending. And, Maker's breath, was that Fenris actually looking a little miserable beneath all of that moodiness that was his exterior?

If he was starting to _look_ miserable, then he really was miserable.

"Come on." Hawke brushed his thumb against Fenris's cheek and pulled away. "I'll make you some breakfast. You can come down if you want, or I'll bring it up here. Apples and cinnamon."

"I'm not hungry," Fenris said shortly.

"You need to eat something."

The noise of discontent was soft, but audible. "Fine," Fenris relented. "I'll..." he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

" _I'll_ have it brought up," Hawke interrupted. "Stay put. I'll be back in a moment."

"I expect I'll be here," Fenris said.

"It's a good thing we got back when we did," Hawke remarked, watching Fenris pick at his breakfast. "Any longer on the road, you would have been slung over my shoulder on the way back."

"If I felt like this, I may have agreed to that," Fenris said, spooning out a piece of apple.

Raising his eyebrows, Hawke said "Really? I feel like you've fought like Ser Pounce-a-lot must've, every time I pick you up."

Fenris swallowed. "It's mostly the comments."

"Comments?"

Fenris looked up at him. "... The sweeping."

Hawke laughed out loud.

"It's not funny," Fenris rasped. "The dwarf and that book..."

"I think it's sweet," Hawke said. "The fact I swept you off your feet. Or, that Varric thinks that."

Fenris blinked at him dully. "What?"

"Well, you know." Hawke rest his chin in his hand. "You flustered me the moment I saw you."

"What?"

"Well, maybe not the first moment. I seem to recall you'd put your hand through that man's chest. So that was an interesting meeting... but you're a handsome man, Fenris, that feeling's mutual. I wanted to protect you and follow you from the beginning. Wanted to kill Danarius the moment you told me about him." Hawke shrugged. "Wanted to kiss you when you were red-faced and embarrassed when I told you were you handsome."

"I was not red-faced," Fenris growled.

"You were giggling like a school girl," Hawke said with a smile.

"I was _not_." Fenris trailed off, jerking his head away to cough roughly into his shoulder.

The smile melted away. "Okay," Hawke muttered, "we've got to stop you talking... are you going to eat anything else?" He chose not to comment that he had hardly eaten anything at all, mostly picking at the apples. Better than nothing, he supposed.

"I said I wasn't hungry."

"That's fine, you had some. I'll have some broth prepared for you later." He sent the dishes away and reached over to press his hand against Fenris's face again. "You're warm, you know."

"I'm frozen to the core."

"Wonderful."

After pecking a quick kiss against the elf's cheek, Hawke pulled away. "Lay down. I'll be back in a minute, alright?"

"All this lying around," Fenris mumbled, although he did acquiesce, sliding beneath the blankets.

"I'll bring one of Isabela's books and read to you," Hawke said, gripping onto the doorway.

" _That_ would be uncomfortable for both of us," Fenris said, a mumble beneath the blankets. Hawke could barely even see his nose sticking out from them. "Seeing as how I'm allegedly supposed to be... relaxing." He said it distastefully.

"I was joking, Fenris," he replied. "I could give you a show," he teased, grinning over at him. "Although you still wouldn't be staying down for very long."

" _Not_ funny." More coughing.

"After you get better," Hawke promised, and chuckled as he ducked out of the room.

Easier to laugh when he thought it might cheer the elf up. Less easier when that elf in particular had that nasty sounding cough and the fever now. At least he'd gotten some food and drink into him, and he wasn't fighting on the resting front. Maybe with the addition of the cool cloths Hawke was working on now, the fever would break without any trouble.

He could hope.

"I had a letter from the Knight-Commander."

Fenris opened his eyes, and Hawke wearily understood the look of apprehension there. With the tension between mages and templars growing each day, it was going to take a miracle to avoid a full-scale war at this point. He didn't even want to be involved in this; there was no way out of it now, accepting correspondence between both Meredith and Orsino, although none had been forthcoming in asking for interference save the latter.

He'd... deal with it later.

"Trouble follows you wherever you go," Fenris rasped, tucking his face further into the blankets.

"Including yourself in that?"

Fenris chuckled, which pitched off into a hiss as Hawke smoothed the dripping cloth onto the elf's forehead. " _Hawke_ ," he growled, fumbling his hands free of the blankets to grab at it.

"It's not _that_ cold," Hawke said, catching his hand. "Leave it there."

"Is there a purpose?" Fenris hissed. "Besides making me uncomfortable."

"Sorry, but you know it might help the fever." Hawke crawled into bed next to Fenris, sitting next to him. "Your body's too hot... double meaning not implied," he added, when Fenris's glare intensified. "Even if it is true..." He grinned and moved to grab the earlier discarded book from the floor near of the bed. "Want me to continue reading from where you stopped last week? We can pick up on the studies when you feel better."

Fenris shivered but mumbled an approval. Hawke was certain that he lost him somewhere in between the acceptance of the main character's grand adventure and the banter that came after, but he didn't mind; he propped his head on his hand again and watched - worried - at the elf sleeping fitfully next to him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris Night Terrors (AKA what I expected when I got that quest)

"Fenris- _Fenris_! It's just me!"

Hawke grabbed at the elf's hands, hanging onto his fingers instead of his wrists like instinct told him to do. If Fenris got an attack in, body glowing in the semi-darkness of dusk, Hawke wouldn't be taking care of him anymore.

He'd only just come to check on him, and found the elf in throes of what were probably fever dreams. Even if he was meant to be sleeping, Hawke couldn't stomach the look of distress on Fenris's face, the garbled mumbles and the twitching. All he'd done was crawled onto the bed to touch at Fenris's shoulder; in retrospect, a remarkably stupid decision.

"Fenris," Hawke repeated, squeezing at his fingers. "Wake up."

He was awake, already, at least slightly, but the fever was clouding his eyes, and only after he struggled for a moment, blinking rapidly, did Hawke find the recognition in the green eyes gazing back at him.

"... Hawke?" Fenris gasped.

Hawke exhaled a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. "Thank the Maker." He let go of Fenris's hands, shoulders slumping as he sat back. The adrenaline was wearing off, replaced with the same, crippling exhaustion and worry from before. "What in Andraste's name was that?"

Fenris's lyrium was still glowing, and the elf stared at his own hands blearily for a moment. And then raised his head back to Hawke, the glow fading from his veins. "Did I hurt you?"

"No."

It didn't seem to placate him. "Are you sure?" he asked, leaning forward. The blankets were still tangled around him from the nightmare and so he fell forward, half into Hawke's lap. Hawke had to throw his arms up to catch him so he didn't smack into his knees.

"I'm fine, Fenris." And Fenris was shivering, shaking, in his arms. "Fenris..." He swept the elf's sweaty hair out of his face and hauled his small body free of the blankets, into his arms. "So, what was that about?" he asked, settling his chin on the warrior's shoulder.

"I thought... the lyrium..." He shuddered, gripping loosely at Hawke's arms around him.

"I'm fine," Hawke repeated. He paused, and then said "You were having quite the dream, there."

"Mm." Fenris swallowed. "You were in the Fade."

Hawke laughed, regretting it somewhat when Fenris stiffened up in his arms. "Maker, I hope not. What was I doing there?"

Fenris shrugged, and shifted. "I wouldn't know. I... was watching from... an outsider's point of view." He slumped back against his chest. "There was something... you were fighting."

"Well, that shouldn't have worried you. No way I wouldn't win," Hawke said sarcastically, but when Fenris fell silent and said no more about the nightmare: "... Oh. I _was_ losing."

"I couldn't get to you."

Hawke tightened his grip around Fenris. "That's how you know it was a dream. If I was foolish enough to travel into the Fade, you'd be by my side. After having a spectacular argument with me, I'm certain."

"I am certain..." Fenris turned, resting his head against Hawke's chest. His eyes fluttered shut, but the tremors still shook his thin frame intermittently.

Hawke said nothing else, permitting the sick elf to fall back into sleep if his body desired it. He was too warm to the touch, and he ought to drink something while he was asleep, but he was still shaking, and Hawke couldn't bring himself to move. Maybe in a moment.

"... That's a nice song," Fenris said, some time later, into the silence and making Hawke jump.

"What?"

"The one you're humming."

"Oh." Hawke had unconsciously begun it, and he had to take a moment to recognize the tune for himself. It was one so engrained it came naturally. "It's something my mother used to sing to me, back in Lothering. I don't remember the words," he said sheepishly, with a pang of regret - if she was still here, Leandra, she could have done so much better than cold rags and a tune with forgotten words - "but I remember she used to sing to us when we were bedridden."

"Ah." Fenris pressed closer. "It's a nice song," he repeated, although quieter, voice dragging into something heavy and clouded again.

"I'm glad you think so." Hawke tipped his head against Fenris's. "We can't stay like this. I'm going to raise your fever if we keep cuddling."

Fenris groaned softly - actual, audible _groaning_ , albeit if Hawke was certain it was meant to be under his breath - but he pulled away slowly, holding onto Hawke's arms for support. "This is miserable," he commented, shortly, as Hawke flew from the bed to pour a glass of water.

"Being sick isn't meant to be fun. It's your body's way of saying you've had too much fun."

Hawke helped him to drink as much as he could, and then helped him to lay back against the pillows again.

"I wouldn't know," Fenris said, rubbing his chest. "Last time I was sick... last time I was sick, I only remember working until I passed out. I only woke up afterwards. Danarius punished me for it."

"It was probably his fault to begin with." Hawke dipped the cloth into the bowl and wrung it out, smoothing it against Fenris's forehead again.

"Probably," Fenris agreed.

"Well," Hawke smiled, "not this time. I may not be a healer, but-"

"But you're not Danarius," Fenris said. "You are... _infinitely_ better."

"Flatterer," Hawke teased. "How's the head? You want some more ginger? Anders said that crushing up the ginger and put it in boiling water just to breathe in the steam can help the headache and the stomach."

Fenris stared up at him. "The abomination _said_."

" _Oh_." Hawke grinned. "Whoops. Sorry. I had to go see him, Fenris, I hardly had anything here, nor the knowledge to know what to do with it. I didn't tell him _you_ were the one who was sick, if that assuages your unease."

Fenris scowled. "I thought you weren't bringing him into it."

"I had to," Hawke repeated. "It'll be fine. I just told him people in Hightown were getting sick. Not untrue."

Fenris sighed heavily through his nose.

"Don't pout on me."

"I do not pout."

"You do," Hawke replied fondly. "I'll get the ginger, then you can go back to sleep."

"Hawke-" Fenris broke off.

Hawke glanced over. "Yes?"

"Can..." he trailed off. Hawke was familiar enough with the elf to know that he was thinking of words, working up to what he wanted to say. "... you... stay with me?" he eventually continued, turning his head away to glare towards the wall. As though it were the worst thing to voice the question.

Hawke smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

"In bed." He was still staring away.

"If we keep the cuddling to a minimum." And wasn't that Hawke's favorite thing to say - not. "Until your fever breaks, at least."

Fenris nodded. "I just... want you here." He said it with the most steady of voices, even in his illness, and still, the blush that blossomed against his dark cheeks...

Any other time, _any_ other time.

"I'll be right back," Hawke promised. "Stay put."

"Staying put," Fenris murmured, fingers twisting into the blankets.

Fenris being flustered at things, embarrassed to ask... certainly, it was fun, it was cute, and Hawke wanted to gather him in his arms and never let him go. But that was also a lifetime of being conditioned that he wasn't allowed to want, ask, or need. If Fenris wanted Hawke there, Hawke would be there. If Fenris needed him to keep the nightmares away, Hawke'd try to do that. Whatever Fenris asked of him, Hawke would assuredly try to give it.

He wasn't sure how long it would take Fenris to realize that, but he was determined to make him see it eventually.

(Although he hoped he didn't stop blushing altogether; broody and blushing were a winning combination that Hawke ate up because Fenris was _too adorable_.)

Still, the fact that it was going to take time made Hawke angry all the same; Danarius might be dead now, but the years of his influence over Fenris wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

With any luck, Hawke thought, as Fenris hung onto his hand beneath the blankets later, he could be the one to erase that influence. Help Fenris battle his problems, and get over them, even. And if he couldn't, then they would just work around that. Hawke was willing; Andraste knew he had patience. _Especially_ for Fenris.

The elf's fingers tightened around Hawke's hand, pulling his arm to hug against his chest. Hawke stifled a laugh - unconscious cuddler, this one - and pillowing his head on his free arm, smiled at the warrior. They'd figure it all out, together. Fenris would grumble at him for the sentiment but secretly be pleased, Hawke was certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't played DA:I yet, but I know. I _know_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Hawke is getting even more purple.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Finally the energy to be up and about.

"You don't have to feed me," Fenris muttered.

Hawke shrugged. "I don't mind."

Morning had dawned earlier than Hawke had expected, with Fenris sleeping through the night. He had agreed to even eat, doggedly dragging himself out of bed with Hawke's help, hand in the small of his back and Fenris's fingers caught in Hawke's shirt. Change of scenery, the warrior had said (demanded).

"You already carried me down the stairs," Fenris retorted.

"You weren't going to make it downstairs by yourself." And he wouldn't have; Hawke had let him walk to the edge of the stairs and then scooped him into his arms. Not without complaint, a strangled gasp and hands clawing at Hawke's shoulders for purchase.

"I would have."

"Sure." Hawke dipped a piece of their bread into the broth and held it out to Fenris.

Fenris looked away, and then leaned forward to take the bread from Hawke's fingers with his lips.

Hawke raised his eyebrows, exhaling with a soft chuckle. "You must be feeling better."

Fenris groused something about ‘taste of your medicine’, tugging at the blanket around his shoulders.

"It's good you're feeling better," Hawke said contemplatively, stealing a piece of bread for himself. "But you're still feverish. You need to take it easy until that breaks."

"I know," Fenris said. He drank some of the broth and set the bowl aside, curling into himself.

"Is that all you want?"

Fenris shrugged. "It's enough."

"Okay." Hawke wiped his hands and stood up, offering his hand. "Want to go out there? You're probably freezing here, the fire's been out for awhile. Everyone went into town... I can get one going if you'd rather stay here, though."

Fenris shook his head, standing. "I am fine where you are."

 _That's my line._ Hawke didn't say so out loud, but the smile might have given him away as he led Fenris out of the library. "Here, sit down." He helped him to the stairs. "I'll pull up a chair near the fire."

"Stop that," Fenris interrupted, holding onto Hawke's belt as he sank onto the steps. "Your... _caretaking_ is from a good place, I'm sure, but it is beginning to be irksome, Hawke."

Hawke huffed, sinking back down to him sheepishly. "Am I being too obvious?"

"Excessively so." Fenris leaned against his shoulder.

"Thought I was fooling you." Hawke wrapped his arm around him.

Fenris replied with a noncommental noise.

There were moments, like now, for instance, with Fenris at his home and Hawke didn't want him to leave. Ever since Mother had been murdered, it had only been him at the manor, except for Bodahn and Sandal and Orana. They were like family in their own way, but rarely did they ever comment on Hawke's life. Not that he _wanted_ them to, but there was a difference between sitting down to dinner alone and sitting down to dinner with the person you loved.

Fenris had never mentioned moving in, and Hawke wasn't going to bring it up. So many years in, their relationship had only gotten back onto its better legs. He wasn't going to push this too fast, he was willing to move at the pace that was comfortable to Fenris.

Sometimes, though, he just wished Fenris would stay with him like this, and not wiggle away to that dismal mansion to spend his time with his wine and the forgotten corpses.

One day, Fenris would stay on his own volition. Today wasn't that day, but Hawke was certain it would happen one day.

That didn't mean he didn't hang onto Fenris tightly, like now, tightening his grip around him and turned to press his lips against the elf's temple.

Fenris hummed softly, eyes closing. "What was that for?"

"Same reason as this." Hawke tilted Fenris's chin up, so that he could lean down and press his lips against the elf's.

Fenris startled slightly beneath his touch, and didn't kiss him back, and then did, and then, "You're going to get sick", Fenris muttered.

"No, I won't."

Fenris blew out an annoyed that ruffled both his hair and Hawke's, lips still hovering near his. "You are tempting Fate."

"I wasn't aware I was ever _not_ tempting Fate," Hawke replied.

"You are ridiculous." Yet, it didn't stop Fenris from bracing his hand against Hawke's knees, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Master Hawke," Bodahn's voice floated through the entrance, and Hawke pulled away from Fenris with a sigh. "You have a visitor."

"Oh? Did you find this visitor on the street, then?"

Fenris didn't have time to straighten up before Bodahn and Sandal trotted in with their visitor.

"Anders," Hawke said in surprise. Fenris stiffened next to him, his entire body going rigid. "I didn't know you were coming by," Hawke continued, getting to his feet easily. From his side glance, it looked like Fenris wanted nothing more than to bury himself into the blanket around his shoulders and vanish into the very structure of the manor.

Anders's eyes flicked to Fenris and then back to Hawke. "I didn't intend to intrude."

"Then, leave," Fenris said, using the banister to drag himself back to his feet.

"Stay there," Hawke interrupted, pointing at Fenris. Trust him to try and storm away and pass out along the way. _Not_ on Hawke's watch. He looked back at Anders. "What can I do for you?"

Anders frowned. "I wanted to see how many people were sick in Hightown, but it's him, isn't it? That's who you're taking care of."

Hawke shrugged. "As much as I can. Let's step out, I wanted to get some air myself." He gestured to the door, glancing back at Fenris after Anders did, and as he then headed to the door. _Stay there_ , he hoped he was still conveying. _I'll be right back._

He wasn't sure if Fenris got it. He only mostly just looked angry.

He had so many other things to be doing than playing peace keeper between Fenris and Anders.

"Why didn't you tell me it was him?" Anders asked. His breath turned to cloud in the air and Hawke shivered; had it been this cold two days ago?

"Would have you treated him?" he asked patiently.

Anders looked dubiously at the doorway. "... There's no treatment, per se. Just caretaking."

"Which you were _not_ going to do," Hawke reminded. "So I omitted a few details. He was trying to keep it under wraps, anyway; he's been ill since before we came back. The fever only seemed to show up yesterday."

Anders turned away from the door, breathing out. "Make sure he gets enough fluids. I guess if he feels well enough to be up, he might not be getting it as bad as some others."

"I hope the worst has passed. Yesterday was fun." He could see the curiosity in Anders's eyes, but no, he wasn't about to go into that. Nightmares and insecurities, those weren't Anders's business. "Your advice has been good help, though. We've had powdered ginger, mint and chamomile as herbal drinks... didn't try the vinegar thing. I was saving that. Figured he wouldn't like it very much."

"Yeah, can't imagine anyone would..." Anders sighed. "Let me know if you need anything else. I won't turn him away if you need the help."

"Thanks, Anders." Hawke turned back to the house. "I should get back to him."

"Yeah, of course..."

"And Anders?"

"Hm?"

" _Don't_ bring this up later," Hawke said sternly. It was something not up for debate. "Or any time. Right?"

Anders nodded stiffly. "He's sick. I can't hold that in particular against him."

"Good." Hawke smiled. "I'll call on you soon, Anders. Good afternoon." He sighed as he let himself back in. "Maker's breath, it got cold," he muttered, rubbing his arms as he went back in.

Fenris was still standing where he had been, looking unsteady on the stairsteps and still glowering.

"He's gone, Fenris." Hawke crossed the room and pecked his lips against his before doing what Fenris apparently very much hated and swept him off his feet. The lack of protest this time was a tiny bit more worrisome. "You're just sick. There are worse things he could walk in on."

"The abomination walking in at all isn't a good thing." Fenris turned his head into Hawke's chest.

Hawke would have remarked with his usual _play nice_ if Fenris wasn't looking miserable again; instead, he just carried him up to bed again. He wouldn't be able to kiss away Fenris's spectacularly red nose, but, with any luck, he'd be able to kiss away the insecurities and the fact that Anders had seen him like that at all.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recuperation.
> 
> \+ bathing, speaking, and promising.

"I need a bath."

It was that remark in only Fenris's masterfully flat tone of contemplation that made Hawke laugh out loud, and maybe the fact that Fenris looked a little like he'd been drowned and had bedhead had something else to do with it.

"The fever's broken," he said, leaning over to press his hands against Fenris's face anyway. "Finally. Are you feeling better?"

"I have... slightly more clarity," Fenris said slowly. "My head isn't throbbing as much. It's not as cold," he added, and looked at Hawke. "That's... good."

"Very," Hawke replied, resting his forehead against his. "You're not warm any more. Take it easy for today. We'll get you something substantial to eat, and you'll be one-hundred percent in no time."

"That sounds good." Fenris was unmoving, head tilted against Hawke's for a long moment before he continued. "I am sweaty and digusting, Hawke."

"Never that," Hawke replied, smoothing his hair out of his face, and then pulled away. "But I'll have the bath prepared."

"Your dedication never ceases to be astounding," Fenris said.

Hawke turned back around after mentioned out to Orana to heat water, raising his eyebrows as the male elf in his bedroom struggled to his shirt off. "Continue to undress in such a tempting way and I may not be able to contain myself," he joked.

"Your inappropriate mind never ceases to be, either," Fenris muttered.

"You don't seem to be quite so innocent yourself, days." Hawke wasn't sure what the trouble was, but he stepped forward, easily helping Fenris free of his sweat-drenched shirt.

"Thank you." Fenris huffed, blowing a piece of his hair out of his face.

"Mm." Hawke leaned against the bed. "It's good to see you with some color back. You were getting pretty pale, there for awhile."

"I was rather delirious for awhile," Fenris admitted. "I feel like I lost more time than I think."

"Well, you're back now," Hawke said. "Although we'll give it another day or two for rest, _right_ , Fenris?"

"Yes," Fenris muttered.

"Thank you." Hawke pretended he didn't notice the way Fenris was flustered at the genuine warmth in his voice, and instead watched only from the corner of his eye as Fenris fidgeted and rubbed at the back of his neck.

After discussion of what breakfast would be - porridge, or a cereal, either with additional honey because Fenris had said it seemed to soothe his throat - and a polite interruption from a servant who was probably used to not having so much to do (Hawke was more self-sufficient than his state of living necessarily designated, he was certain), he led the way to the bath, hanging onto Fenris's hand along the way.

"Are you bathing with me?"

"No." He _had_ entertained it, though. "I thought... maybe I could bathe you."

Fenris's fingers slipped from the cabinet he was hanging onto. Hawke reached out to steady him before he could pitch over. "What?" the warrior asked, looking up at him.

"Wash you." Hawke fished the flannel cloth from the tub, holding it up. "Unless it is too intimately familiar; we have bathed before together, but..."

Fenris's mouth worked, opening and closing as he sought words. And then, "... Yes. I would like that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Fenris repeated, and continued to undress himself. "No one has ever offered before."

"You're missing out. _They're_ missing out," he amended, watching Fenris's breeches fall to the floor.

"That remains to be seen," Fenris replied, and allowed Hawke to help him into the bath.

Hawke pushed up his sleeves. "Alright. One washing of a dirty elf coming right up."

"Most amusing, Hawke."

"Thought so."

Hawke subsided into silence, focusing on the task and nothing else. He dipped the soap into the water and scrubbed it against the cloth before leaning over to begin to wash at Fenris's neck.

He worked gently, and slowly, for they had nowhere else to be and the sight of a naked Fenris relaxing into the touch of the washcloth was a good start to the day. He swept the cloth against the curves of Fenris's shoulders and down the length of his arms, leaning over to kiss one of the elf's exposed palms when they fell against the side of the tub so that Hawke could wash the interior of his arms.

Fenris made a noise that Hawke diregarded, choosing to focus on tracing the lines of lyrium back up to his chest. He dragged the cloth over the peaks and valleys of Fenris's collarbone, his chest, and his ribcage, sweeping along the curves and speckles of delicately detailed markings embedded into his skin.

He also chose to ignore how Fenris's breathing had increased by the time he had dipped onto Fenris's smooth stomach, the corners of the cloth trailing into the water where the water level met flawless skin. Or he would have, intending to save it for when Fenris was better, had it not been for a lack of a particular reaction, one that should have been rising to the challenge with the quick breathing and the reddened cheeks.

The fact it wasn't made Hawke pause, dipping the cloth back into the water to rinse and re-lather. "... We can stop, if you'd like."

Fenris's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"If you're uncomfortable, I can stop," Hawke repeated clearly.

"No."

"Fenris..."

"I'm fine," Fenris interrupted. "I'm just not accustomed to being treated with such _respect_." He spat the word as though it were poisonous, as the tension curled back into his shoulders.

 _Which is the biggest tragedy of them all,_ Hawke thought, but only in his mind. He knew he had made his mistakes with Fenris, and what had happened with Danarius, too, was going to take a lot of time to soothe in the meantime. So, instead, he dropped the washcloth back into the water and looped his arms beneath the elf's, pulling him into an awkward hug over the edge of the bath.

And Fenris was soapy and surprised and a bit like a wet cat, when he hissed "Hawke," in a chastising sort of way. "That was unwise."

"I don't care." He pressed a kiss against his forehead and only then pulled away. "Sorry, I got excited," he said sarcastically, and grinned at the critical elf staring up at him with indiscernable emotion in those green eyes.

"So it seems." Fenris dipped his hand into the water and fished for a moment before coming up with the washcloth. "Would you continue? I would... like you to."

Hawke smiled, taking the cloth. "Of course. Turn a bit, and I'll wash your back. Then we'll rinse and wash the bottom." He put just enough inflection into his voice so that Fenris could agree or deny, and the warrior nodded with nary a pause. He gave his back to Hawke without another word.

There was little about this that was sexual, but this? Was far more intimate than sex, Hawke was beginning to think. Sex was sex, but this was baring not only body, but trust.

It was same in some regards. Wholly different in others. Either way, Hawke was glad he was the one that Fenris had decided to bestow his trust upon. He wouldn't let him have a chance to regret it.

Hawke washed circles against Fenris's back, and rinsed his upper half thoroughly before starting on the bottom. He washed Fenris's hair last, carefully, slowly pouring the cooling water over Fenris's head only after he made sure that the elf's eyes were closed and that he wouldn't breathe in the water.

And then he whisked him from the bath before it could get too cold for him in his recently improving state, wrapping him up tightly and again carrying him back to the bedroom.

"It'll be big, but it'll be warm," he said, handing a shirt of his to Fenris. "I don't have anything that's any closer to your size. You should have some things here for these impromptu sleepovers."

"I don't have many things to begin with." Fenris slipped into Hawke's deep red shirt, tugging at the collar so that it did not slip too far over his shoulders.

"Then we should buy something for you to have here," Hawke remarked as Fenris wiggled back into his own pants from before.

Fenris did not tie the laces on his breeches, instead looked up at Hawke with contemplative eyes. "Would you... enjoy that?" he asked slowly, and Hawke tilted his head.

"Which bit?"

"My having a presence in your manor." Now it was Fenris's turn to speak in the tone of a question.

"You already have a presence in my manor."

"I mean it."

"So do I," Hawke said. "How many bottles of wine have you brought over for a gift, or our reading sessions? Or the books," he gestured to the ones laying next to the bed, even. "You know how many books I've picked up because I thought you might like them. Or how much more messy the library's gotten because we're already picking them out. How I look at the statues in this house and think of you. Or when I see the blankets rumpled just so and imagine you standing in front of the fire light." He shrugged. "You're all over this manor, Fenris, my manor's all over you, too." He reached out to touch at the silk scrap of fabric Fenris was winding around his wrist even then, or the crest he wore normally even walking around Hightown. "We are entwined, you and I, even in the simplest ways."

Fenris smiled wryly, finishing tying the fabric.

"The smile is encouraging, I'd say."

"Your ability to speak your mind, Hawke. It is still a refreshing quality."

Hawke grinned. "Well, everything can't change. The Deep Roads may have been explored and the Qunari conquered, I might even been Kirkwall's Champion," he said, "but some things don't change. Like my love for you."

Fenris exhaled and sat back on the edge of the bed. "Festis bei umo canavarum."

"Oh, I've heard that one before."

"You will be the death of me." Fenris sighed. "I love you, too." He turned to look at the fire. "If you have me, I would like to... perhaps begin a movement towards that future we spoke of."

He had said _I love you, too_. Fenris had never said that, not out loud and not to Hawke - maybe not to anyone, ever. Hawke wasn't certain. He had said that to _him_.

"Which means..."

"... Moving some of my things here," Fenris continued. "If you would be alright with that."

"Are you alright with that?" Hawke countered.

"I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't." Fenris looked back at him. "Well?"

"Of _course_!"

Fenris looked at him for a long moment before smiling. The fleeting smile reserved only for him. "Thank you. Perhaps, soon, I will be able to move myself here as well. Permanently. If you-"

" _Yes_ ," Hawke interrupted. "You really don't need to ask, Fenris. Anything you want, you can have."

Fenris chuckled. "Do not promise me that, Hawke. You may live to regret it yet."

Hawke grinned, holding his hands out to the warrior. "No regrets. Not with you. Not ever."

"Oh, you'll make me blush."

Hawke could put on a mask that he was only vaguely amused, he could act like he wasn't boisterous on the inside (he was!) but he couldn't deny the love he felt for the man and he pulled him into another kiss, certain he could live by those words forever:

no regrets.

Not now, not ever.

Fenris was the one person he loved most in the world, and he had a lifetime ahead of him to prove it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone says, these two are gross. I want twenty of them.
> 
> I love writing these guys. Hawke, to me, seems like the type who is not worried about being affectionate towards the person he chooses to love. So that makes it fun to write *o* Purple Hawke helps, too, ahaha.
> 
> Thanks so much for following this story! I look forward to all of your comments and kudos each chapter! I hope you all continue to look forward to any future FenHawke fic I write! :D


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